There And Back Again
by Blaze Lanigan
Summary: “I fear Mother Nature is against us tonight,” Autumn stated as they climbed higher.
1. Chapter One

**THERE AND BACK AGAIN**  
  
CHAPTER ONE  
_Hope is a waking dream. _  
  
- Aristotle

"Can ya see 'er? Is she comin' yet?" he asked again. Every time a dark figure arose in the distance, the same sentences poured from his anxious lips. His raven hair disheveled, his face full of soot, his hands marked with newspaper print, the boy ran one hand through his hair again – a nervous habit of many years.  
  
"She must be comin' now. It's a quarter past eleven, an' she ain't never more than an hour overdue!" he cried, patience wearing thin.  
  
The second merely quieted him, annoyed at his recurring statements. He licked his lips before speaking. "Hush now. Ya know she'll be comin'. She's always true to 'er word, an' you bloody well know it. Now stop askin' me before ya make me anymore noivous than I already am!"  
  
A cold rain started to fall from the grey clouds, ushering those still outside to head for the warmth of their homes. The first boy looked up at the sky and shook his weary head. How much longer could they wait?  
  
"Where is she…" the first whispered, just enough for his own ears to hear, but out of reach for his companion's.  
  
The air felt heavier as the humidity grew and the first boy noticed an eerie calm covering the street – the people were heading for shelter, leaving the road barren. His eyes squinted in the darkness, hoping, even praying to see a familiar outline in his view.  
  
The rain started to fall faster, tapping heavily against the cobblestone streets, bouncing up as if the ground were too hot to touch. Steam rose from the ground, blanketing the city with a heavy white mist.  
  
The minutes passed and still no sign of their missing party. The second wiped the sleep from his emerald eyes and squinted through the darkness. His short, light-brown hair was clad to his scalp, the rain making sure not a single strand of hair stood freely. Droplets of water dripped from his long eyelashes and paved a river down his tan skin. With a heavy sigh, he turned to the anxious male. "I'm not waitin' any longer. It's freezin' out and we're already soaked to the bone! I say we head back to the lodge. She knows where it is. She can find it on 'er own. Me bones want some warmth back in them and soon!"  
  
"She may very well know the way, but what if some evil lyin' in the shadows of these streets has fallen upon her already?" the raven-haired boy argued. "They are not safe for a woman."  
  
"She is no mere woman, Bumlets. That you well know," he retorted.  
  
Bumlets shook his head, turning his attention to the dark streets. She was never late, that he remembered, and it only made his body fill with worry. His companion drew a half-smoked cigarette from his shirt pocket and quickly lit a match against the only dry place on the wall he could find. By the time the first puff filled the air, the boys had an unexpected surprise catch them off-guard.  
  
The sleek hands of another crept over their shoulders, holding them both under a firm grasp. "My, my, what have we here? Two lost boys, peerin' out into the streets as if their life depended on a wanderin' soul."  
  
The two froze at the firm touch, but as they recognized the voice, both whipped around, pushing the hands from their beings.  
  
"Gabrielle Adler, how dare you sneak up on us like that!"  
  
"Peter, you know not ta use me real name in these parts!" she scolded, staring at the first. Her glare changed to a smile as she looked towards the second male. "Bumlets, good to see you."   
  
"And I dare you, _Blaze_, ta utter me name like dat again," he grumbled. "It's Glory and you well know dat bit of information!"  
  
"Always his charming self, is he?" she asked of Bumlets, ignoring Glory's glower.  
  
Shrugging sheepishly, Bumlets chose not to answer her, as Glory was already upset enough for the three of them as it was.  
  
"Well, as nice as it is to stay out here in dis _lovely_ weather, what say we head back to da lodge? My feet have been beggin' me to sit for the past three hours."  
  
"What a pleasant idea," Glory snarled and pushed past her. "God forbid ya show up on time once in awhile."  
  
"I **_do_** show up on time once in awhile! Last time I was early!" she protested loudly.  
  
"And the five times before that, you were at least half an hour late," he remitted and picked up his pace. "It's not like we have anything more important to do then wait for you during the late hours of the night. And that's another thing! Why can't we ever just meet at the lodge?"  
  
"You know why we can't, and I shall not inform you again while out in the open," Blaze hissed.  
  
"Ain't you ever gonna learn not to upset a lady?" another figure asked in the shadows of the alleyway.  
  
"_Jesus_! Did you two take lessons on how ta creep up on people?!" Glory shouted once the figure sauntered from the shadows.  
  
Nodding briefly, the figure answered, "I was hopin' ya would notice our skill. We've been practicin' all week, ya see… Just for you two."  
  
"The look on Glory's face _was_ precious," Blaze stated and quickly moved a few steps away to stand clear of Glory's wrath. "Wonderful skill, Autumn," she praised, nodding to her companion.  
  
Autumn smiled and planted her hands firmly upon her hips. "I have been practicin' _awful_ hard ta impress the men," she reiterated with a smirk.  
  
"I should have known these two were attached at the hip! Next time do us a favor and let us know we'll have to be putting up with both of you, not just one!" Annoyed and somewhat embarrassed that two girls could cause his heart to beat so fast, Glory continued on, forgoing anymore acknowledgement to either girls on the walk home. He was in such a foul mood, that he stayed ahead of the other three for the rest of the journey.  
  


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I've re-uploaded this story after changing around some tiny details. I mainly just fixed dialogue here and there so it's nothing major. :-)  
Hope you all enjoy!  
Blaze


	2. Chapter One Continued

Chapter One Continued...   
  
Upon reaching their destination, Glory and Bumlets rushed into the house as they always did, while Blaze and Autumn climbed the fire escape. Their ascent upwards took quite some time, as the rain had caused the rails to become as slippery as ice, and both did not feel like tumbling to the ground on this particular night.  
  
"I fear Mother Nature is against us tonight," Autumn stated as they climbed higher.  
  
"Well, somethin' is always against us. I suppose tonight Mother Nature wanted a turn," Blaze answered. "Mist, rain, darkness, and rather slippery rails... I say she did rather well for herself, don't you think?"  
  
"Ay, quite well," Autumn agreed. Once atop the third floor of the building, she waited for the window to creak open. It was the same each time they ventured to lower Manhattan. The lodge was strictly for men only and Kloppman wasn't one to overlook any rule breakers. Each time the girls visited, they had the boys make certain Kloppman and the rest of the lodgers were asleep before they dared enter the lodge. They would climb the same route and await one of their helpers to open the window, allowing them access to a storage room that hadn't been utilized since 1890, at least.  
  
Once Blaze had reached the same vantage point as her accomplice, the window creaked open, and through the darkness they saw Bumlets' familiar face, beckoning them to hurry inside. As they climbed through, the wind picked up, and their hearts jumped a mile as the sounds of the bitter cold whipped through the open window for a few seconds before Bumlets was able to shut it tightly. The three froze in anticipation of the owner walking the steps at this late hour. With any luck, Kloppman would let the noise pass him by, and would continue his slumber. When moments passed and not a sound was heard, the three relaxed their stiffened postures, allowing air to once more pass through youthful lungs.  
  
"Tanight was not yer best choice, was it?" Bumlets whispered as he gathered a few blankets for the girls to sleep on.  
  
"It's not like we chose this night because of its wonderful weather," Autumn replied dryly. "If we had a choice, we'd be halfway across the country."  
  
"Auty!" Blaze whispered quickly.  
  
"Halfway across the country?" Bumlets repeated curiously. "Was I not informed of a big move to take place?" Though he didn't want to convey the look of being hurt by her words, he knew his eyes would betray him. Bumlets had a close bond to both girls and though they were never ones to stay in one place for very long, he never imagined them traveling farther than New Jersey.  
  
"She meant nothin' by it, Bums," Blaze assured him. "Now, what say we all get some rest before tonight becomes tomorrow and we've got nothin' but baggy eyes and tired nerves to show for ourselves?"  
  
Nodding, Bumlets quietly hurried to make their accommodations seem somewhat home-like. The storage room was mainly filled with broken bunk beds, unusable lamps, and the occasional blanket, but it served its purpose for their visit. It was the safest place in Lower Manhattan for the two to stay, and even though Kloppman didn't allow women to bunk in his establishment, the girls would still find a way to compensate him for their time spent in the lodging house. Kloppman wasn't the best at keeping proper books, and usually when he found an accounting error, Bumlets and Glory knew it was because they had slipped some extra coins into his box. Every night the girls had stayed at his lodging house, they had paid the same fee as the rest of the boys and to them, that made their staying in the storage room acceptable behavior.  
  
"_What Kloppman doesn't know, won't hurt him, especially if he's receiving some reimbursement," _Autumn had always reasoned.  
  
"I can't see," Autumn begrudged and fumbled through her pockets for a match. "Ah, there we go," she grinned, coming across her prized possession – a silver box fit for holding her matches and smokes. With one delicate swish of the match, the room was softly lit and Autumn claimed a space to rest for the evening.  
  
Bumlets looked over to see that Autumn settling into her makeshift bed, but as he turned to find where Blaze had gone, he found her asleep. Smiling, he shook his head. She was always the first to fall asleep, no matter where she was. She'd once fallen asleep in the park during an in depth conversation with Bumlets over the material used to make good walking sticks. They'd taken a break to enjoy the view and within that short span of time, she was dead to the world.   
  
While she had wavy blonde hair that shone when washed, her features were rather plain. She kept her long, round face hidden behind her hair, and wasn't one to attract any attention to herself while out in public. She was by no means skinny, but she remained as athletic as one could be with her figure and never let herself slow down. She hated her hips, her thighs, her stomach, and Bumlets knew full well that there were to be no jokes regarding weight while she was around, but back in his mind he often wondered what she found so repulsive about herself.  
  
Realizing that he was staring at the girl, he turned to make sure Autumn had settled in for the night, only to find her back facing him. Her short, straight brown hair was sprawled across her head, and he could tell she wasn't fully asleep because of the way her chest rose and fell. He noticed the shabby blanket barely covered her, allowing him to view the exact width of her shoulder blades, the curve of her hip, and the shape of her legs.  
  
Autumn and Blaze were two completely different people that fed off each other – their combined personalities and traits making up an inseparable duo. Autumn was shorter and skinnier than Blaze, but she packed a meaner punch than her accomplice. Her eyes were intimidating, her stance polished, her bark just as lethal as her bite. More than a few girls had remarked being intimidated by her, and that merely pleased Autumn in the end. Street life was tough, and the last thing she wanted to do was create a prissy image of herself.  
  
Bumlets heard Autumn clear her throat and realized that he had taken up enough of his time glancing at his guests. Quietly slipped out the door and retired for the night.  
  
  


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Thanks to Raeghann, Raider, Raven's Wing, Dreamer, NZea, Bookie, Tree, Stretch, Annie, and Slick for reviewing Chapter One!


	3. Chapter Two

** CHAPTER TWO**  
  
_ A leader is a dealer in hope.  
_- Napoleon Bonaparte  
  


In every lodging house there was a leader. In Kloppman's, the boy to hold that title was Francis Sullivan, better known as Jack Kelly. A somewhat lanky figure at seventeen years old, Jack stood barely under six feet tall. While his greasy brown hair and overall dirty appearance fit in right with the other newsboys, his poise was the feature that set him apart from the crowd. Even at his young age, Jack knew how the city worked. He knew the streets, the people, and the art of conning his way out of trouble. In his lodging house, loyalty and friendship were the most important, and while these ideals weren't always followed, anyone with eyes could see the devotion these boys had to each other and their leader. Together they were a united, unbreakable team – apart they were a hungry pack of street urchins.  
  
Jack's team included boys with names such as Skittery, Pie Eater, and Kid Blink. Each boy earned their nickname in accordance to the way they presented themselves, a hobby, or even a physical attribute that separated them from the rest. Snitch, for instance, was the best pickpocket this side of the Brooklyn Bridge, Swifty could outrun any bull, and Specs obviously wore glasses.  
  
The boys ranged in age from four to twenty, those above that age usually graduated to jobs in the factory where the heavy atmosphere would eventually wear down their lungs and severely harm or kill them. Others went to work as apprentices in various shops around the city (if they were lucky), some traveled to different states or territories and worked on ranches, but the majority of the boys eventually died of disease or starvation.  
  
The female street urchins of the city weren't allowed to live anywhere near the boys' houses. It wasn't proper for an unmarried girl or lady to be growing up in a home full of boys, and thus female boarding houses were constructed around the city. Housed in these establishments were girls that mostly worked in factories, dance halls, and less-than-respectable establishments. There were a few newsgirls in the pack, but most preferred a working environment that was predominantly female and migrated to the factory life.  
  
Female boarding houses were lined without the pleasantries of a comfortable home. The walls were usually a drab brown, the painting job was never quite finished, the kitchen and dining area could barely hold a quarter of the lodgers, and the beds squeaked so much that if one dared move during the night, they were lucky if only three girls woke up. The lodging house was always too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, with never enough wood to keep a long-lasting fire.  
  
The owner of such an establishment was usually a hardened old lady who answered to a landlord on the Upper East Side. It was rare to see the actual owner of the building visiting one of his profit machines. Instead, an assistant was assigned to visit weekly, picking up the rent monies that the lady collected from the overworked girls.   
  
On the corner of Greenwich and Chamber streets, the owner of the boarding house was one Victoria Noble. While 'noble' she was not, Victoria ran the house like a true businesswoman. She always knew what was going on in her house, for she enlisted the help of several of the poorest girls living there, tempting them with lower rents if they ratted out any lodgers illegally staying under her roof.   
  
A stout woman in her forties, Victoria's face was unforgiving and cold. Her eyes alone told any new lodger that if they crossed her, they'd see the door before the morning, and they'd feel the sharp pain of her broom on their backside while ushered out the door.  
  
The building itself echoed the looks of its owner. Barely up to minimum city codes, the place desperately needed a facelift, including new paint, plumbing, and flooring, but it'd be years before anything would be done. There were four floors all together, each with just one washing room, consisting of two stalls and several bathtubs. Towels and soap were scarce, and if one brought their own supplies, they knew well enough to lock them in their trunk after each use, or they'd be "lost" by day's end. Once a tenement building, the upper three floors had all the walls (minus the washing room area) torn down, leaving no privacy for any girl. The first floor consisted of Victoria's rather large living quarters, a kitchen that could only provide food for a quarter of the lodgers at a time, a front desk where the girls were to sign in and pay their dues, and a living area that could fit a small group at a time. Nightly parlor games were played downstairs until 9pm, when the girls were expected to be in bed. The doors were consistently locked at 9, and any girl unfortunate enough to be left outside was out of luck.  
  
Like the Newsboys' Lodging House, the girls' house had a leader. A proud, mother-like figure, Filly watched over the rest of the girls as best she could. Australian by birth, Filly was proud of her heritage and her people. She used her affiliation with the small town where she grew up to hide her past, spouting stories of great turmoil to the younger girls, thus directing their interest to something besides Filly's own personal experiences. She had few close friends in the boarding house and maintained that while she was looking after the girls, "the fewer the friends, the better. Lord knows they'll all want to befriend me just ta hear da latest house gossip!".  
  
New York City was still growing at an astounding rate in the year 1900. Immigrants poured through Ellis Island by the thousands, and as such, the girls' boarding house had an array of ethnicities, backgrounds, stories, and personalities. It was a melting pot of girls and ladies, a history lesson spanning not only the globe, but generations. And it was all under one single roof. From the Irish, to the Germans, Russians, Australians, Native Americans, and everything in between; they could all be found on the corner of Greenwich and Chambers in Lower Manhattan.  


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Thanks to Relic, Bookie, Holiday, and Bon Bon for reviewing!


	4. Chapter Three

**

CHAPTER THREE  


** _Do not protect yourself by a fence, but rather by your friends._  
- Czech Proverb  
"Mmph…"  
  
Blaze rolled over, evading the inevitable for a few more moments. Her body was telling her to wake up and she knew that if she didn't, she'd be faced with finding a way out of the lodging house while the boys were awake and Kloppman was roaming his domain.  
  
Letting out a long, overdue sigh, Blaze's eyes monitored the small room, wanting to take in everything as the silent morning crept up on the two girls. Several broken down bunks were resting against the corner wall, dust-covered sheets lay tangled around the wood. There was one lone chair sitting in the opposite corner, two of its legs mysteriously missing, probably broken off after years of use. The same corner housed a drawer set, its brilliant mahogany wood now tarnished and dull. There was one window in the room which provided just enough light to further weather the scarce items in the room.  
  
Autumn brushed a few wayward strands of brown hair out of her face and slowly sat up. "Me back aches," she mumbled, her mouth stretching the last word into a yawn.  
  
"When _doesn't_ it ache?" Blaze gave back, smirking.  
  
"When you ain't around," Autumn replied and moved just in time as Blaze sent a pillow sailing her way.  
  
"C'mon. If we're lucky, we can make it down to the washroom before da boys get up. Ya know how long it's been before I've had a nice, hot bath?" Blaze asked.  
  
Holding her nose, Autumn scoffed, "Too long."  
  
Ignoring her last insult, Blaze untangled herself from the musty sheet and began gathering her things.  
  
"You don't actually think we can make it downstairs, strip ourselves of our lovely clothin', take a bath, an' get out before dose boys wake up, do ya?" Autumn questioned.  
  
Blaze shrugged her tired shoulders. "What's there to lose?"  
  
Autumn glared. "Oh, I don't know… boys walking in on us naked, Kloppman finding us, bein' thrown out on the streets by a very angry old man…" she trailed off, hoping Blaze got the picture.  
  
Pouting, Blaze didn't feel up to arguing over the question of a bath. All she wanted was to feel the hot water against her skin, and to be rid of the dirt plaguing her body. But Autumn had a point. They'd never successfully made it to the washroom before the boys awoke, and this morning probably wouldn't be any different.  
  
Autumn rolled her eyes at Blaze's pout and gathered her own things. The sun would soon be rising and they needed to find a place to freshen up before working for the day. "Let's go. If we're lucky, we can make it to dat park down da street before da bulls are out on mornin' patrol. Dat fountain always has da cleanest water dis side a' town."  
  
Grumbling, Blaze acquiesced and surveyed the room once more before following Autumn to the window. They'd get to wash their hair, face, limbs, and nothing more, just as always. She hated those fountains, but she had no choice. It was going to be another long day of scrounging for enough money to pay for food, and neither girl was looking forward to it.  
  
~~  


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To be continued...


	5. Chapter Three Continued

Chapter Three Continued  
  
There were always two things about Lower Manhattan Lodging House mornings that never changed – they started incredibly early and incredibly slow. Kids slumped over in their beds, refusing to wake up until they were prodded at least three times. Eyes peeked out from under threadbare covers, voices chorused in groans, and tired, sore feet hit the cold, wooden floor as their bodies realized it was once again time to work.  
  
The line to the bathroom moved slowly in a buffet-like motion as faces were washed, bathrooms were used, and premature shaving was achieved (whether or not it was necessary). The boys in Kloppman's washroom fought over the few towels and the tiny bit of soap they could find, but in the end everyone was finally able to wash up and get dressed, and those sore feelings while unable to find a clean towel were washed away by the prospect of a new day in the city.  
  
Boys in this facility didn't have much to look forward to – headlines never improved, the title of "street trash" wasn't exactly an upstanding one, and a constantly-growling stomach was never a welcomed addition to the day. But there were always those things to brighten one's day, whether they be as small as a smile from a young lady while out in the streets, or an extra piece of bread from the nuns that generously handed out a meager breakfast each morning. The boys could find hope in something as small as a newly polished marble, or as big as an overcast day, where triumphant clouds overpowered the hot summer sun.  
  
The buffet line continued as the boys left the lodging house. First there was a stop at the nuns' horse cart to have a small breakfast and then there was another long wait at the distribution center, where the boys paid for their newspapers.  
  
The mornings held a monotonous quality about them. The boys were up at the same time, they left the lodging house at the same time, and by the time they were at the distribution center, their leader Jack was already trying to annoy the staff at the New York World as he stood first in line.  
  
The boys looked up to Jack or "Cowboy" as he was affectionately called. For some, he provided a safety net. As long as they were under Jack's command, they were secure. They had a job, a place to sleep, and food (most of the time). They counted on Jack for protection, but what the newsboys didn't know was that Jack harbored feelings for Santa Fe, despite his promise to stick with his boys. Jack never forgot about the day he had a chance to be taken to the train yards in Teddy Roosevelt's carriage. Perhaps the old man was ultimately right. Perhaps staying was for the best. But Jack couldn't help his thoughts. He couldn't help the way he felt about the open range. He felt it was calling to him – stronger than ever.  
  
The _ New York World's_ distribution center was among the crowning achievements of Mr. Joseph Pulitzer. The metal gates that led to the office were the highest in the city, and Pulitzer had hired a staff he thought worthy of keeping the newsies in line. A Hungarian-born immigrant, Joseph came to America in 1864. Having purchased the _World_ in 1883 for $346,000, Joseph worked to make the mediocre newspaper one of the premiere papers in New York City, directing its audience at immigrants, women, and the lower class workers of the city. With flashy front page images, scandalous stories, and flaming editorials aimed at the White House, Pulitzer redefined the newspaper 'world' and sold millions of copies doing so.  
  
Though Pulitzer put out the image that he embraced those of the lower class, he indeed was an upper class businessman. He pitted his editors against each other, making sure that the workplace was filled with competition for the best story. Even though he suffered from poor eyesight, diabetes, weak lungs, exhaustion, and asthma, Pulitzer continued to run his paper with lethal fortitude. After all, he had "created the world" and he was determined to live in that very world – the one that regarded him as a king among newspaper tyrants.  
  
While yells of "Get da lead outta yer pants!" and "Dose papes won't wait long ta be sold!", the newsies stood in line, impatiently waiting to buy their stack for the day. Behind Jack stood the rest of the boys in an unorganized line. Racetrack was checking his pocket watch to see how much time had elapsed while in line. Mush kept eyeing the women crossing the street in front of the distribution center. Kid Blink's eye was incessantly focused on the front of the line, anxious to buy his papers. Pie Eater was finishing up an extra roll he'd snatched from the nun's cart. Specs had been fumbling with his bowler hat, readjusting it just in time for Dutchy to push it over his eyes for the tenth time. Bumlets and Skittery discussed plans for a 'duel' later on with their prized walking sticks. Boots, Tumbler, Slider, and Snipeshooter were comparing marbles. Snitch was counting his coins, calculating how many papers he could afford. Snoddy stared off into space, his mind a jumbled mess of malcontent. Itey couldn't leave his suspenders alone as his teeth gnawed on the fabric. Swifty had his eyes on Jake who was practicing flipping his bowler in the air with ease. Crutchy was running his mouth a mile a minute to Sutty, a newcomer to the Lower Manhattan Newsboys. Glory was brooding in his corner, annoyed that he couldn't properly think over the loud banter of the boys. The line continued on, newsboys filling into the distribution center as morning wore on.  
  
During the summer, Jack's right-hand man, David Jacobs, and his younger brother, Les, would be standing beside him to sell papers to help his family pay the bills. But springtime was upon Manhattan, and David was in school, leaving Jack without Les, whom could easily fake a nasty cough, enhancing their profits for the day. Though Jack enjoyed the younger boy's company, mainly for reasons of money, many of the boys sold separately, eager to gain as much profit as possible. A selling partner only hindered their earnings for the day, and brought on unwanted competition.  
  
As the boys filtered through the line, the newsgirls entered through the gates, their arrival hindered by not only the farther walk from the boarding house, but the fact that the boys were always to go first – the girls to get the 'leftover papers'. It was an unspoken rule that had never been challenged and part of the ongoing argument over women's equality. There were only about a quarter as many newsgirls as boys, the rest of the street dwellers choosing places such as the factories or entertainment halls as their line of work. Of the ones that came, most were from the boarding house a few blocks away. The girls entered together, huddled in a pack formation designed to help keep the unwanted comments of the newsboys at bay. Many of the boys disliked sharing a job with members of the opposite sex, and some were relentless in letting the girls in on their opinions.  
  
One was lucky if he could pick out a single conversation within the girls' group without getting caught up in an array of different topics. Gambler was annoyed at the incessant talking of Riley, who was babbling about the recent rainy weather, Sparrow was off daydreaming about a boy ahead of her in line, Annie, Mayhem, Slick, and Smalls were chatting about the best selling spots that the boys hadn't figured out yet, Sage was giving Calliope advice on her new relationship with the newsboy Snoddy, while Stretch and Holiday were eavesdropping on the conversation from the back of the line, eager to pick up today's gossip.  
  
Once papers were purchased, the kids hurried to claim their selling spots before another newsie beat them to it. There was hardly any sharing when selling papes was concerned, even when one was new to the game. You sold by yourself, using your own wit, or you were simply not a real newsie – you were a cad in need of a good soaking – and there were plenty of newsies who would soak you in an instant. The newsies held their selling spots in high regard. It was like gang territory. One did not overstep his boundaries unless he wanted a fight, and a fight is what he would get if there were any discrepancies. Many of the newsies were highly skilled in the art of combat, merely because they had to fight to survive – to prove that they were not to be messed with, or to be taken as a lightweight fool.  
  


~~

  


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To be continued  



	6. Chapter Three Continued

Chapter Three Continued   
  
The cool water danced upon Autumn's skin, tickling her senses as she finished washing away yesterday's grime. Blaze was too taken with her own skin's cleanliness to notice Autumn furnishing a devilish grin. Before she could react, Blaze found herself floating haphazardly in the fountain, her clothes soaked.  
  
"You _bitch_!" she cried, spitting water out of her mouth.  
  
"Serves ya right for last week!" Autumn grinned and finished washing up without helping Blaze to her feet.  
  
Angry at herself more than at Autumn, Blaze had forgotten last Wednesday's successful mission. Autumn had merely been waiting for the perfect opportunity to pay her back for the unwanted swimming invitation last week.  
  
As Blaze wrinkled her nose and hurried to climb out of the less-than-sparkling water, Autumn took a gander at the sky, the early morning sun giving life to her cheeks. "No rain today."  
  
"Good!" Blaze mumbled as she raised her soaked sleeves and gave Autumn a warning glance. "Last thing I need is somethin' else ta drench me today!"  
  
Laughing, Autumn sat next to the fountain and kicked her legs as she gazed up at the sky again. "So what shall we do for food today? Pickpocketin' is fun and all, but it _is_ rather drab after a couple weeks in a row…"  
  
"I know. Why don't ya go over ta Medda's and ask her if ya get ta whore yaself today? Dat'd be easy money," Blaze snickered, sitting out of reach of Autumn's arm.  
  
Heaving a large sigh, Autumn resisted the urge to drown her smiling friend in the fountain. "No, no. By all means, Blaze, _you_ should go ta Medda's. Yer da one wid da _stunning_ good looks… and big breasts," she retorted.  
  
Blaze gestured to her breasts. "Oh I must protest! Dese small apples ain't nothin' compare ta yer large melons!"   
  
Autumn laughed, and once Blaze realized she wasn't going to strangle Blaze senseless, she laughed as well – albeit nervously. Autumn had been known to have those pesky 'rage blackouts', where she left a trail of destruction, no matter if you were friend or foe.  
  
"What say we just find some unspectin' fool and grab us some money ta eat?" Autumn suggested. "Sure it ain't a fancy way ta get a couple bits, but it's too late ta grab some mornin' papes and I coitenly ain't gonna go work in no factory. I ain't no slave."  
  
"Alright fine. But I get ta grab da money dis time!" Blaze insisted. I'm sick of puckerin' up ta stinky businessmen while you get da easy part!"   
  
Standing, Autumn nodded in agreement. "Yer on, but I'm pickin' da lucky fella. You always pick da plump, liquored-up bastards."  
  
Blaze shrugged. "Dey's da easiest ta steal from. What betta den one dat's already impaired by alcohol?"  
  
"One dat don't smell like a barn, dat's what," Autumn answered.  
  
The two made for Park Row, an area filled with upstanding businessmen with deep pockets. It would be business as usual for the pair of girls. After all, those men had more than enough money to spare, and Blaze and Autumn were willing to help them part with a fraction of their earnings.  


~~

* * *

To be continued...  



	7. Chapter Three Continued

Chapter Three Continued  
Bumlets removed his once-light tan cap, threaded his fingers through his unruly black hair, and wiped the sweat from his brow. He'd been selling for five hours and was finally free of the bundle he'd purchased. With the sun at full force now, Bumlets felt as if summer had already swept over the city, and it was aiming at any poor, unsuspecting soul it could find – Bumlets included.  
  
His stomach rumbled fiercely like an earthquake vibrating beneath a city, reminding him that he hadn't had a bite to eat since this morning. As he exhaled - his chest rising and falling slowly - Bumlets wondered what he could afford to satisfy his stomach's plea. Tibby's was out of the question. Many of the boys liked to think they could eat there on a regular basis, but with the money they earned from selling papers, one could merely afford to purchase a small meal once in awhile.   
  
Bumlets turned his attention to the vendor carts that lined the street. There was a plethora of items being sold right before his deep brown eyes. He recognized Cyanne, a flower peddler who lived in the boarding house on Chamber and Greenwich. Despite her small frame, she could hawk with the best of the vendors, and was often heard far down the street, singing a sweet ballad about her wares, or simply calling out that she had the best price in town.  
  


_ Come look at my stars - my asters,_  
_ Come buy my tulips and lilies,_  
_ Come smell my beautiful roses,_  
_ Come pick a handful of daisies!_

  
  
Her light brown braids dancing in the mid-day sun, Bumlets watched as she continued down the street, and waved when he caught her attention. She nodded to him and smiled, then hurried on her way, a half-day of selling still on her mind.  
  
Bumlets figured he could afford an apple or a small loaf of bread and that would tide him over until dinner. He decided to peruse the carts, his thoughts interrupted now and again by vendors calling out details of their goods. After much debate, he finally decided on a small loaf of Spanish pan just as he felt a hand snake around from behind, tapping his inner jacket pocket where his coins lay. Reacting instantly, Bumlets grabbed the intruder's wrist and whipped around, only to see Blaze's eyes feigning innocence. "Blaze! Just what in da world do ya think yer doin'?" he cried.  
  
Smiling, Blaze raised her free hand to his face, revealing a freshly 'picked' loaf of bread. "I figured ya were goin' for bread today, so I 'found' dis down da street," she explained.  
  
Letting his guard down, Bumlets released her wrist. "Do ya always have ta sneak up on people?" he growled, his heart pounding.  
  
"I do it for da reaction," she confessed and smirked. "Ya did look awful handsome when ya turned around."  
  
Bumlets rolled his eyes and turned to gaze down the street, effectively hiding his reddened cheeks. "Where's ya partner in crime?"  
  
"Oh Autumn," Blaze grinned. "She's around. Probably found somethin' bettah to do den partake in me company. She said she'd catch up wid me later so we can go lookin' for a place ta sleep."  
  
Chuckling, it was Bumlets turn to poke fun. "So basically ya mean you annoyed her to the point where she had ta get away, and the reason ya don't know where yer gonna sleep is 'cause ya got kicked out of Noble's place and there ain't another boardin' house 'round this part of town."  
  
Blaze sharply poked him in the side. "Whatever gave ya the idea that ya were allowed ta comment?"  
  
"The fact that I've put up wid ya for years now gives me plenty 'a rights and don't be forgettin' it!" he gloated.  
  
"Fine den. So ya gonna invite me ta share in this bread or what?" Blaze changed the subject quickly, her stomach informing her that it was high time to eat.  
  
Bumlets adjusted his cap and glanced at the bread. "I suppose…" he started and looked up at her. "If ya can catch me foist!" With that he took off down the street, wielding his way through merchants and shoppers. Blaze chased after him, occasionally shouting out that she shouldn't be chasing down what she had 'obtained' in the first place.  
  
Their chase would continue through the streets, Bumlets encouraged to carry on by Blaze's pleas, and Blaze relentlessly following, her stomach ordering her to eat as soon as possible.   
  


As morning had since vanished, the boys and girls would soon return to the distribution center to buy their afternoon papers, and once again set out in the city to earn their keep. Today was Friday, and usually a great day for news. The newsies only hoped that the newspaper's editors would live up to their expectations and present them with a story that would sell like wildfire – and despite their hopes being crushed far too many times, they never ceased to hope for a good assassination or a war that would keep readers interested for weeks.  


* * *

Yay end of chapter three, finally! 


	8. Chapter Four

**

CHAPTER FOUR

**  
  
_ All paid jobs absorb and degrade the mind._  
-Aristotle  
  
"God if this day ever ends, I'll be a church-goin' woman again," Chord whispered, sweat pouring from her wayward brown hair. She broke from her work just long enough to peer around the busy room. Most of the windows were covered in filthy tan shades, preventing the girls from being distracted by the outside world. The soot on the floor hadn't been swept clean in weeks, leaving a haphazard pattern of footprints to design the floor instead of the wood underneath. There was only one exit on this fourth floor of the building, and that exit was guarded by one of the foreman's apprentices at all times. Women were not allowed to take breaks until their scheduled time, and the foreman made sure to enforce that rule in its entirety.   
  
"It's never been this hot before," Chord griped.  
  
"Aw pipe down ya ninny," Athena scowled, narrowing her dark, hazel eyes. "Ya say that everyday. The next is always hotter than the previous. I've never heard anyone complain as much as you."  
  
"Both of ya hush up!" Whisper scolded. Her eyes scanned the dank room, setting themselves on the foreman in the corner, preoccupied with paperwork. If he caught them chatting whilst on the job, they'd be out on their bums in no time at all.  
  
Silently complying, the girls wiped the sweat from their brows with callused hands and went back to work. The life of a factory worker was never easy – the girls rose earlier than most and returned home after dark. Not many knew of a workday less than 12 hours long.  
  
Chord eyed an uncovered window with a sigh – the sun was barely setting and already her hands felt numb. She wished nothing more than to be rid of this job and home with her family for good. If only it had been that easy.  
  


~~

  
  
Onyx's reflection bounced off the window, her olive skin displaced in the window by the uneven glass before her. As the clock stroke four, Onyx knew it was time to leave for work. Sighing, her long, dark lashes blanketed her black eyes once more before daylight took its hold. She stood from her place by the window and made for the mirror, adjusting her faded white blouse and tan skirt in the reflection. Without further hesitation, Onyx grabbed her brown cap and strolled out the door of the small apartment she shared with a few gals. The family-owned restaurant she waitressed at was a few blocks from the apartment in Queens and she was very glad to have the fortune of knowing the owner. One's connections in the city could lead to prosperity, just as it could lead to poverty. Onyx was sure to use her connections with caution and so far the waitress job had proved to be a good choice.  
  
A slight wind caught Onyx on her way out the door causing a brief frown to cross her face as she readjusted her cap. Once satisfied that her cap was indeed slightly to the right, Onyx plucked a cigarette from her skirt's pocket and scanned the street corner for a friendly face. While she had pilfered enough cigarettes to last her the week, matches were something she reserved for her friends to provide her with. Onyx was one to make acquaintances fast and she was proud of that little attribute.  
  
"Spades, got a light?" she called to a black-haired newsboy across the street. As he nodded quickly, Onyx grinned. This particular afternoon was on her good side – so far.  
  


~~

  
  
Celtic quickly rubbed the grime from what seemed like her hundredth plate and noticed her reflection quietly shining back into her hazel eyes. Her fair skin appeared rather ghostly in the off-white plate, her mouth curled slightly downwards as she stared into the dish.  
  
"Cel, we _need_ more dishes. It's like the President came ta town. Every table is full! Stop admirin' yaself and hurry!" Firecracker pestered. Groaning as she picked up a pile of newly clean dishes, Firecracker carried them to the kitchen and set them down just in time to pick up three completed dinner plates. She pushed her curly red hair behind her ears and set out into the main dining area of Tibby's once more.  
  
Both girls lived under Filly's watch at the boarding house on Chamber and Greenwich, but chose not to be newsies, unlike most of the others. A restaurant called Tiibby's had been offering employment with pay that rivaled what a newsie would make, and both felt the job might be easier on them in the long run. Instead of what Celtic thought her job might entail, she came to find out that her hands were just as beat up as a newsie's, if not more, and the lewd gestures the male cooks gave her were a very unwelcome addition to the position of dishwasher. On the other hand, Firecracker nearly enjoyed her position as a waitress. The extra tips she received for minor flirting with the guests were what kept her going – more money in her pocket meant three meals a day, instead of her usual two. While the thought of degrading herself crept into her mind every now and then, she knew her job wasn't nearly as bad as what gals dealt with in the factories – or even worse, at Medda's.  
  


~~

  
  
Long, auburn hair and a very loud, pink dress crowded the petite figure sitting in the makeup chair. Three girls were flitting about around the pink dress, making sure the hair was as high as it could go and the makeup was as bold as it could be. They hurried to finish, loudly reminding each other that the show would be starting any minute. Once finished, the clouds of powder slowly subsided as the girls took off to ready the next performer, leaving a wide-eyed female by her lonesome. Puck, as she nicknamed herself, sat quietly as she mentally reviewed her impending performance.  
  
_You chose this job, now you have to stay with it_, she told herself over and over again. Standing, Puck delicately walked out of the makeup room and up the stairs. As she approached the second level, she cringed at the sound of the male voices in the crowd. Just as unruly as the night before, the men chanted for the next act, eagerly awaiting another female body to devour with their hungry eyes.  
  
Puck reached the last step and took hold of the banister. Closing her eyes, she envisioned the spotlight upon her smooth, white dress – her hair done in beautiful, bouncing curls, her face glowing with pride. She cleared her throat and began to sing as a hush flew over the audience – their ears fixated on every sound emanating from her lungs.  
  
"And now we have a special treat for you boys!" Medda grinned. The audience hooted and hollered, men eagerly awaiting fresh meat to cast their eyes upon. "Please welcome Ms. Sugar and Spice!"  
  
At the last words, Puck was awakened from her fantasy. Opening her eyes, she saw Medda rushing towards her, motioning for her to get on stage. Puck hated that name, _Ms. Sugar and Spice_, and all that it entailed. But this was her life and that stage held the means to feed her later on. Nodding to Medda, Puck took the stage, her nose wrinkling from the smoke-filled hall, and started the show.  
  


~~

  
  
Fingering the smooth, worn key around his neck, Spot watched his newsies take their afternoon break by the waterside. The scene was one of relaxation – boys diving into the cool, refreshing water, girls dangling their bare feet over the edge of the dock, watching as the boys swam by.  
  
Brooklyn looked at things differently than Manhattan. The boys' reputation of ruthlessness and fierce competition was not entirely exaggerated, much to the dismay of the other boroughs. While Manhattan did have Five Points, Brooklyn had **_ Brooklyn_**. There wasn't just one small vicious area – the entire borough was not meant for the weak-hearted.  
  
It was in their eyes – a certain look. That look of passion, of years of peace and war, of loving and losing, of loyalty and mistrust. Every Brooklynite had a version of that look in their eyes - every man, woman, and especially every street rat. It was what made those newsies notorious – they worked themselves to the bone to maintain that image.  
  
"Spot!" Relic shouted. "_Spot_! I can't keep pickin' up after you!" She raced towards the edge of the pier, her eyes ablaze with both frustration and anger.  
  
Spot lowered himself from his famed perch and slowly strode to the edge of the dock, ignoring the loud shouts directed at his very figure. This entire week had been bad news for the short Brooklynite – news was buzzing around about a feud in Queens. The new leader wanted more space for his newsies to sell and his arrogant eyes were on Brooklyn.  
  
Massive, rolling clouds in the sky floated effortlessly above the city's buildings, blocking the sun from reigning over the afternoon. A breeze sailed past Spot's chiseled features, sending a chill down his bruised spine. He'd been in three fights this week alone, and things in his body were beginning to weaken before his time. His mind wasn't where it should have been. Instead of planning Brooklyn's defense against the Queens, he was planning his way out of running the operation for a few days – or forever.  
  
"Spot!" Relic repeated, pushing the wind-swept brown hair from her face. Skidding to a halt beside the leader, Relic cocked her head, noticing the strange gleam in Spot's eye.  
  
"Spot?" Her voice had since lost its haste and was replaced with uncertainty.  
  
Spot gave a small smile, as if he' d just finished a long conversation with an old friend. He turned to Relic with that same smile, his eyes full of life after the silent decision he had just made within himself.  
  
"What is it Rel?"  
  
Shaking her head, Relic couldn't remember what she'd run to him for. His strange acts greatly puzzled his head spy, and she had to search her mind for the reason she'd come.  
  
"Um, yer birds… All over town they're actin' as if a war is brewin'." She blinked several times. There was more, only what was it she needed to tell him? How could his actions bring forgetfulness to her list of traits?  
  
"I know. Is that all?" he questioned, uneasy with her sudden lack of cohesiveness.  
  
"No, that's _not_ all," Relic spat, regaining her senses. "Sneaks been up in Manhattan all day and her brother found out – he's fixin' to call out Jake if he doesn't keep his hands off her. And Maverick decided it'd be a good idea to take Skinflint up to the Queens border. Two of 'em figured those scabby boys wouldn't mess with a couple of Brooklyn gals. I told them not to go too far – Lord knows I ain't gonna go after them if they get caught. And speakin' of gettin' caught, Blue and Charles were found in a fight with some Queens boys over by Grand Street. How they got there nobody knows. Yer birds are slippin', Spot. And ya ain't given me the resources to recruit new blood. "  
  
Spot took in the information, his body showing no signs of discontent over the news. "And what of Greenpoint? Heard anything from them?" he asked. Greenpoint and McGuinness was a lodging house near the northern border of Queens and Brooklyn. The number of boys there were miniscule as compared to the ones right under Spot's watch.  
  
"Brass can't keep hold of his house if ya don't send some more scouts his way."  
  
Nodding, Spot inhaled deeply, the sweet smell of his terrain invading his senses. Time bore on, and Relic's patience grew thin.  
  
"Well?" Relic asked, tapping her boot against the dock.  
  
"I'm going to Manhattan in the morning. Tell Leadpipe to take over watch for a few days."  
  
"Yer leavin' us _now_? After what I just told ya?" she asked, astonished.  
  
Spot stared her down, his blue eyes daring her to question him once more. "Yes, now. Go find Leadpipe. I'll be gone within the hour."  
  


~~

  
  
"Lute! Lute dear we need you!" called a voice behind the high counter.  
  
Lute McDonaghey sighed and peered beyond the book that had intrigued her interest for the past half hour. She hadn't noticed the recent spurt in attendance at her father's bar, nor that the amount of drinks being served was not enough to keep the crowd at bay. Quickly she slipped the book into her bag and shoved her belongings out of the way of any interested parties.  
  
"You and those romance novels." Bliss shook her head. She held her stomach briefly, mimicking the action of throwing up a nasty meal.  
  
"I wouldn't be caught dead reading such trash," Lute insisted as she tied the last knot in her apron. "Besides, with a name like Bliss, I'd think _ you'd_ be the one into that sort of story."  
  
Scowling, Bliss pushed back her wavy blonde hair and went back to tending to the newest thirsty crowd. Lute and Bliss had long since had a relationship of taunting each other, and it worked for the both of them. Lute had never forgiven her father for hiring another girl around her age to tend the bar, and Bliss had never forgiven Lute for a little escapade involving an entire bottle of scotch and Bliss' rather embarrassing drunken dance on one of the tables.  
  
Lute pranced from one end of the establishment to the other, smiling as she handed out drinks to her favorite regulars. Her short brown hair followed her steps, never missing a beat as she spun through the crowds. Lute enjoyed the work. She enjoyed the customers that treated her like their own daughter, and furthermore she enjoyed the haughty ones, for it allowed her wit to shine through. While her father had kept her in school during the day, Lute was free to sell newspapers or tend the bar in the afternoons, and on occasion she endured both jobs in one day, eager to earn that extra fifty cents to help purchase another drawing pad or pencil set.  
  
Mr. McDonaghey stepped back from the counter with a drink in one hand, eager to take a well-earned break. He sat in his favorite booth and smiled as he watched his daughter in action. His kin was so full of life and so keen on embracing new challenges – and rather stubborn about anything that came her way. He saw so much of himself in his daughter and hoped beyond hope itself that he had prepared her for the road ahead. His aging eyes took in the small bar with its rustic appeal and cluttered walls, full of memorabilia collected over the years and his daughter's drawings. His fingers drew circles in the moisture from his glass as his mind drifted in a sea of its own thoughts. This was his dream and he'd fulfilled it, though the road was one of despair and wrong turns. Would his daughter's life be any easier? One could only hope.  
  


* * *

I know, took me long enough to get this chapter out... but school started and there just wasn't time! Big thanks to Relic for helping me every step of the way and the girls over at the NJL for giving me some new profiles to work with!  
Also thanks to Filly, Smalls, Ember, Cyanne, Socks, Whisper, Sneaks, Puck, Gip, Emu, Stretch, Firecracker, Slick, and Soaker for their reviews!  



	9. Chapter Five

Many to thank for the last chapter. :-) First, Relic for always willing to beta and suggest and all that good stuff. To Filly and Autumn for their mucho support. And to Whisper, Calliope, Puck, Sneaks, April, Stretch, Misery Loves Company, Gambler, Lute, Slash, Smalls, and Maverick. :-)  
And to anyone that's left a review in the past, THANK-YOU!  
Also, I should include a slash warning. It's very small, but there is a slash dream towards the end of the chapter. If you don't like slash, sorry, but slash happens in real life, so consider it just another part of the fic and move on if you don't enjoy it.

* * *

  
**

CHAPTER FIVE

**

_No passion so effectually robs the mind of all its powers of acting and reasoning as fear._  
-Edmund Burke

  
Autumn had found a new, more convenient path to her favorite park in the fading afternoon sun. Pleased with herself, she celebrated by taking a quick nap under her usual tree. Unbeknownst to her, Glory had been following her every move since she returned to the lodging house. He'd watched her from afar in the morning and he'd followed her around town hoping for the perfect opportunity to randomly bump into her.  
  
While she rested under the comforts of a tall oak in the late afternoon sun, Glory knew his chances of running into her were growing slim. Step by step, Glory slowly approached the tree. He smiled at her figure – relaxed yet guarded. Her eyes were closed, but her ears were open, taking in everything from the whispers of the leaves to the clunk of an old man's uneven boot as he passed through the park.  
  
Glory breathed heavily as he stood but a few feet from his prey. Autumn's arms were crossed, her nose wrinkled by an itch. _What do I say to her? What do I do?_ Panicking, Glory stepped back, but his shoe caught a forlorn branch, causing it to snap under the pressure. In an instant Autumn's eyes were open, startled by proximity of the sound.  
  
"Glory!" she yelled, exasperated. "What in God's name are ya doin'?"  
  
"Havin' a bit of a walk. Is that alright with ya?" he asked as his temper returned quickly.  
  
"No, it's not alright. Next time ask me permission," she countered, strangely aware of the insecurity in his eyes. Sitting up, Autumn brushed the dirt from her skirt and pretended not to notice that Glory was indeed staring at her.  
  
Sighing, Autumn wondered if she would actually have to endure a conversation with Glory. She'd never been real friendly with the character. Sure, they had their moments, but those moments were usually filled with sarcasm and bickering. Autumn only knew Glory because he had become good friends with Bumlets. And she still couldn't figure out why Bumlets would want to associate with such an individual. "Can I help you?" she questioned. "Perhaps toss ya in the water? Find a stray dog to bite yer ass?"  
  
"Just for that I think I'll be intrudin' on yer little picnic here a bit longer," Glory responded, quite confident that this would be an affair to remember.  
  
Autumn pouted. "I guess that's a no, then… But I really wanted to test me throwin' distance. You'd be a great subject," she nodded, her hands gently picking at the grass around her.  
  
Glory took advantage of the sudden lull in Autumn's temper and sat beside her, his legs crossed. "Ya know I'd really like ta give you the opportunity ta test on me, but… I don't think you really _want_ to throw me in the water," he explained.  
  
Autumn cocked an eyebrow at him. "I don't _want_ to?" she asked, mimicking his tone. "And what gives ya that impression?"  
  
"Because you would rather enjoy me company then see me drownin' in some lake," he stated.  
  
Rolling her eyes, Autumn threw what grass remained in her hands at him and smiled. "Fine, then target practice will have to do." She grabbed another handful complete with grass, leaves, and dirt, and flung the matted substance at Glory's face.  
  
Flinching, Glory brushed the results of her attack from his clothes. He curled his lip as he contemplated a counterattack.  
  
Autumn watched him curiously. He wasn't moving. He wasn't even frowning. What sort of reaction was that? Shaking her head, Autumn crossed her arms and leaned back against the tree, resuming her pleasant nap. Every few moments she'd open an eye to see if Glory finally had a reaction, but he remained so still that she thought he'd even stopped breathing.  
  
Glory waited until Autumn closed her eye again before attacking. An onslaught of leaves, twigs, grass, and dirt flew at Autumn's figure, draping her in an earthly attire.  
  
She should have known. "Pffft…" Autumn spit out a stray leaf from her mouth and nodded to Glory. "Well, now that we're both satisfied that we can throw dirt… I suppose it's time for a better challenge."  
  
His ears perked. "Oh? What do you have in mind?" Anything that involved Glory spending more time with Autumn was okay in his book.  
  
Autumn stood and brushed as much dirt off as she could. Her hands on her hips, she smiled sweetly at Glory. "An old fashioned race to get dinner."  
  
Glory looked at her skeptically. "What do you mean?"  
  
He shouldn't have asked.  
  
Autumn's boot impacted sharply with Glory's leg before she sped towards the street. She was a rather fast runner, though she had no doubt Glory would catch up – but the shin situation would certainly heed his progress. The two spent much of the late afternoon charging around lower Manhattan, pilfering what food they could, and actually getting along, despite the occasional kick or sharp-witted comment. Autumn didn't know Glory wanted more than just a silly afternoon, but Glory aimed to enlighten her of that detail – and soon.  
  


~~

  
  
Filly strained her ears to hear an organ grinder not too far off, but he was singing in Italian, and the tune was unfamiliar to the Australian's ears. Her mind was cluttered with the rowdy sounds of the street and the bleak humming of the factory's machinery. Her brown hair lightly falling out of a lopsided bun and green eyes faded by life itself, Filly tried once more to diligently concentrate on her work, even with the workday coming to a close.   
  
Usually one had a real reason to go to Five Points. It wasn't for the scenery or the hospitality – it was for the work, or the family, or to pay off a debt. Turf wars in Five Points had raged on for decades - families of the old country pitted against those 'Born Americans'. Tempers were never fully contained in the area – one false word or movement could send things into an uproar, usually leaving bloodied bodies strewn about in the aftermath of the Points' newest fight.  
  
The factory that Filly and Ember worked at was by no means large enough to accommodate the work they did daily. By definition the establishment wasn't even a factory, but rather the third floor of a dress shop on Hudson Street, right in the heart of Five Points. Outside awnings lined the street, a sure sign of flourishing businesses. The chorus of merchants could be heard from one end of Hudson to the other, each voice offering the customer the best price in town. Crowds of people did their best to walk freely along the dirt roads, but space was limited, and Five Points was overrun with mainly Irish and Italian immigrants – each equipped with that one spark of hope for a better life.  
  
Ember and Filly, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to be rid of their Five Points existence. The job was blistering, the pay was lousy, and the area gave them both chills. They both hadn't faired well hawking headlines and when word of this job filled through the boarding house, neither of them could brush off the notion of working in Five Points. If it hadn't been for the job, they'd both have been out on the street, selling something much more sacred than newspapers.  
  
Ember's bright red ponytail bounced in satisfaction as she completed another portion of her latest dress. She ran her fingers over the silken fabric, admiring her craftsmanship. Imagining herself delicately twirling in the dress, Ember set to work on the next portion. The only things keeping her motivated were the thought of wearing a similar dress someday, of buying it with her own money, and of having the affections of a handsome gentleman that would take care of her. The fear of living her life alone in this hellhole was buried in a dark corner as she weaved her hands over the cloth.  
  


~~

  
  
"C'mon Blink! Take a swing! I'm standin' right here waitin' for ya!" Jack exclaimed, excited to have something to do during the downpour outside. The boys never grew tired of a "fight", whether real or with playful intentions. The organized bouts in the streets had occupied their interests (and sometimes their money) for years and many learned to mimic the moves of the aged boxers.  
  
Smirking, Blink put up his fists, aligning them with Jack's, and protecting his chest as best he could. He jabbed gently with his right as Jack swerved to miss the hit. Jack countered with a quick left that connected with Blink's chest, only to send the boy back a step. Grinning, Jack circled Blink, awaiting the next opportunity to thrust a punch.  
  
Hooting and hollering, more and more lodgers gathered around, making a human ring for the boys to duel in. Some cheered on Blink, some Jack, but Racetrack was more interested in taking bets for cash. As every punch flew, he quickly recalculated the odds in his head, making sure that whatever the outcome, he'd take a percentage of the winner's bets (for holding their money and organizing the betting, of course).  
  
Fighting without much depth perception hindered Blink's attack, but finally he saw an opportunity to overtake his opponent, and lunged forward with all this might, throwing his strength and hope into one single punch. Surprised by the move, Jack didn't move in time and the punch connected with his stomach, sending Jack's arms to protect the wounded area. In the process, Jack's hand clipped Blink's head, his fingers tugging at the boy's eye patch. Within seconds, Jack was tumbling towards the floor while Blink's life was changing forever. His eye patch had been stripped from his face, rendering him as vulnerable as the day he'd first needed the discolored leather piece.  
  
Blink swung his arms wildly, forced to relive an encounter that haunted his dreams periodically. His hands grasped fistfuls of air as they frantically searched for his eye patch. The air grew silent as Blink caught the piece of material and threw himself to the ground, his arms covering his face like he was cowering from gunfire. The boys stood there in shock, horror, and disbelief – eyes fixated on the slumped-over figure below them, mouths wide open. They'd imagined what Blink's eye looked like a hundred times, but no one actually thought his eye would be completely _missing_. Though they'd only caught a glimpse of it, that sole glance was all they needed. Jack covered his mouth, Pie Eater turned as his face twisted in disgust, Racetrack's cigar dropped from his mouth. The rest merely stood there in shock – their bodies frozen in time. They'd all seen blood in the streets, but they weren't attached to those instances outside of the lodging house. They felt attached to Blink in many ways and the bond between them buckled under the stress of this new discovery and the pain that was carried with it.  
  
Before them sat Kid Blink, someone they'd known for years, but now he was different. He had a new aura about him, a new feeling - one that didn't feel right or _normal_. He had changed in their eyes within the span of a few moments and it was all because of a single image that had been shielded from their eyes until now. An inescapable image of pain and suffering, they stared at Blink in horror. It was like they were witnessing an accident, and no matter how horrid the images before their eyes, they just had to look.  
  
Blink quickly slipped the patch back over his face as his coarse fingers rubbed against the empty socket. He shuddered as he felt the hardened, scabbed-over skin. Visions of long ago flooded through his mind. He remembered standing in front of the mirror, staring at the area where he once could see. It was dark – so dark. And empty. The skin had scabbed over most of the wound, dark red and black pieces of dried blood and skin clinging to his socket. The doctors had removed most of the red substance, but the pain was so unbearable that Blink had refused much treatment for his wound. It reminded him of when his pa used to chew tobacco and the black substance that it produced when spit out of one's mouth. It was as if someone spit tobacco into his eye and it was permanently affixed to his face.  
  
_Dey've seen it. Dey ain't never gonna treat me da same. I'm so ** ugly, **so** different**._ Blink stood, his head covered by his arms. He pushed past the boys and made for the stairs. He decided wouldn't come back until after nightfall, when the others were asleep and their condemnatory eyes were hindered by night's darkness. Or perhaps he'd never return. Solace could be found in more than one town, he silently told himself. Solace was a place in his mind, one he could reach when he wanted.  
  
The door swung open furiously and Blink escaped the cold, unwelcome feeling of Kloppman's lodging house. The air greeted him with a change of scenery, but Blink couldn't concentrate on the cool spring weather. Where would he go? _Athena_. He could make for the boarding house up on Chamber Street. He could go to her, tell her what happened, take comfort in her arms. But what if she questioned his eye? She'd never seen it. She'd never asked to in their months of courting. What if he scared her away? The mere idea of losing another friend tonight made his stomach churn.  
  
No. He'd go to Medda's. She understood him – she never asked personal questions. She'd let him catch a show, or maybe two before charging him. He'd be welcome there and hidden in a crowd full of men who didn't care who he was or what he looked like. No one would pay attention to him, and he'd be safe. Without further hesitation Blink turned towards Irving Hall.  
  


~~

  
_Images feverishly paved through David Jacobs' head as he slumbered atop the roof of his tenement building. His dream played out like a fast-paced movie. He could see Bliss, his girlfriend of over a year, smiling at him, inviting him with open arms to come with her. But then she was gone – replaced by a taller, more muscular figure. David gave a confused smile at the familiar male. His hair was greasy and uncombed, shoulders broad and pronounced, his arms long and inviting. David wanted to be closer to him. He moved towards the boy, noticing the inviting look on his companion's face. Their hands met and fingers entwined as if they'd done it a hundred times. The taller boy laughed at David and smiled attractively. Abruptly David was pulled into a muscular chest, and the male let go of his hands in order to embrace David in a warm hug. David's face pressed against the long neck before him and he couldn't help but nibble on the balmy flesh._ "Davey, how could ya!" Jack screamed and pushed David away. "That's _ **sick**_!"   
"I didn't mean it!" David's eyes flew open. _It was a dream. _ Wiping his eyes, David looked around desperately hoping no one had joined him on the roof. To his relief the roof was devoid of life save his lonely, confused figure.  
  
"What the hell am I? Some… some…" David couldn't say the word out loud, but he couldn't help but think he'd been reduced to some sort of boy-lover. He'd had the same dream for weeks on end – Bliss would be there, but only for a few moments. Then Jack would appear, they'd become intimate, but before too long, Jack pushed him away.  
  
Running his hands through his soft, brown curls, David lay back on the roof's gritty floor. "These dreams have gotta stop. I love Bliss ya hear? Bliss, not… not _Jack_… Jack's got a girl… A_ girl_. He don't like… boys…" he whispered. He felt sweat drip from his forehead and quickly removed the beads with his sleeve.  
  
_Jack can't ever find out. Ever. I'd be a dead man. These dreams don't exist as far as I'm concerned. It's a stupid mistake. A mistake._ His mind repeated those sentences over and over before David heard his father call him to dinner.  
  
"Okay, Pa!" David made his way down the fire escape willing his body to forget the endearing touch of Jack Kelly.  



End file.
